“God, I’m glad to be home,” I almost whine as I enter our home.
The smell of something savory hits me. Did she make me fresh bread and cream of broccoli soup from scratch again? She just made it for me last week. I swear the woman’s gonna make me soft and doughy in no time if I’m not careful. But damn, her cooking’s fabulous. Need to probably put more hours in at the gym so I can keep eating it.
“Master,” she says softly, kneeling by the door. I told her to stay dressed this time.
I stroke her hair and bid her to stand.
She does, and I kiss her softly.
Yep, she made my favorite soup. I can taste it on her lips.
“How was your lunch today with Julie?” I ask.
“Great, Master,” she sighs and smiles with a lazy, almost doped up grin. “I really like her. She’s wonderful. She told me about how her own family was really dysfunctional and how her dad disowned her as well. They haven’t spoken in years.”
I direct her to the table and she serves me my food first, then her own.
“Continue,” I dip my head, “I wanna hear more about what she told you.”
She smiles, swallows and cuts me a slice of bread. Christ, my stomach’s snarling, it smells so fucking good.
“She said she’s never been happier—now that she doesn’t worry about her family judging her and opposing things in her life they can’t or won’t understand, she feels freer.”
I smile and reach out, caressing her wrist. She sets down the butter knife, her breath catches in her throat and her eyes flood with pure adoration. “I love you, Master.”
“I love you, sweetheart, and I’m so pleased to hear Julie shared all this with you.” I refuse to blink. In this moment, I want to take all of her in, see every tiny movement.
Her mouth softens and her lips part. A soft breath escapes her. “She’s really happy for us. She shared with me some things she knew about you, and I was so excited to hear about how—”
“She didn’t talk about my past subs did she?” I frown.